


Flying Away On A Wing And A Prayer

by Shotgunpicksthemusic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Gore, Wing Kink, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:37:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2945132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotgunpicksthemusic/pseuds/Shotgunpicksthemusic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can handle being a demon.  He can deal with Sam hovering.  He can even put up with the blood being pumped into him, to keep him under control.  But wings?  Yeah, that's pushing it a bit too far...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying Away On A Wing And A Prayer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M4DN377orF8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M4DN377orF8/gifts).



> I really hope that I did this amazing prompt justice. Kudos and comments are love. :)

The itching was going to drive him insane. Not that he wasn't already halfway there, he figured, but the itching, it was a constant, incessant, unbearable irritation, skittering across his back and digging deep under the skin. He sighed, rubbing his back against the chair he sat in, feeling a short burst of relief, then stinging pain.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

"You really care, Sammy?" Dean asked, rolling his eyes.

Somewhere inside him, he felt a twinge of guilt for the look that crossed his brother's face, but the darkness that currently gripped his soul dimmed it, made everything duller. Except this freaking itch!

"Look, I know it hasn't been easy..." Sam began, but Dean quickly cut him off with a low growl.

"I didn't like chick flick talks when I was human, _Sam_ , what the hell makes you think I'd put up with it now?" He sighed when Sam's face fell, his mouth pressing into a thin line as he gave Dean a harsh look. "I get it, okay? You cured me, somewhat. Made me better. I don't want to go all stabby anymore but I'm still a demon. Can't whitewash that away so easily."

"We just need to keep giving you the blood." Sam said. He sighed too, closing the book he'd been reading and studying Dean. "I mean, you're mostly human, right?"

"Yes, and it's pissing me off. Damn it!" Dean exploded out of his chair, reaching around to claw at his back.

"Do you need help?" Sam was already standing, starting to move towards his brother.

"No!" Dean huffed in aggravation. "Just leave me alone, Sam!"

He stormed from the room, up the stairs and out the main door to the bunker. Directly around the bunker was cleared, but woods surrounded the area, standing sparse and bleak in the fall air. It was chilly, but not too cold and Dean could taste rain on the wind. There was a spot, not too far away and close to where he had burned Kevin's body that Dean liked, a place he could go for peace and quiet. It was a small clearing with a modest creek, serene, remote, and he headed there now.

His back was killing him. He wasn't quite sure what was going on. The only person he could ask was the one person he never wanted to see again. Sure, it'd been fun, howling at the moon with Crowley, but that ass thought he could control Dean and that was a huge mistake. One Dean felt Sam was making as well, to be honest. He didn't want to be controlled, he didn't want responsibilities, he didn't want to think. For once in his life, he was free from caring about all that shit. At least, until Sam started pumping him full of blood. And he knew why his brother was doing this, but still...

Well, Sam had trusted him when he'd been soulless, letting Dean call the shots. Dean could give Sam that same trust. He did still love his brother, fiercely. It's just the darkness that sang to him, a siren song that he found so difficult to block out. Maybe he needed another dose of the damned blood. When he got it, there was a weird feeling of relief as the black thoughts receded. He both craved and hated that feeling.

He pushed past the trees, stopping and taking in a deep breath once he reached the stream. He tried to calm his thoughts, but the itching grew more intense, almost burning now. Grumbling, he pulled his shirt off, groaning when the cold air struck his back, soothing just a touch.

That's when the pain started, stabbing, excruciating pain, right between his shoulder blades. With an agonized cry, Dean fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His skin was tearing, freaking tearing apart, warm trails of what had to be blood falling down his sides, pooling in the dirt underneath him. He sobbed as waves of nausea slammed into him and he fell forward, hands clenched in rocks and dirt. There was a horrendous crunch and he screamed again, feeling like his back was being ripped apart. It seemed to go on forever before finally there was the sensation of wet sliding against his skin, as if someone were dragging a damp cloth on him and then, blessed absence of pain.

Dean gasped, his arms shaky, tears running down his face. He dragged in one ragged breath after another, slowly able to calm his breathing, get himself under control.

The first flap against his skin startled him and he glanced back, swallowing past a lump in his throat, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. No freaking way. Flapping in the air were huge, fucking wings. The wind picked up, the promised rain finally falling. It was a light drizzle, but it felt like a million stones were pelting the tender membranes that thrashed against his bare skin.

' _I am so screwed_ ,' he thought, collapsing on the ground and curling into a fetal position. The rain mixed with his tears and he didn't care.

~~*~~

"I'm really worried about him," Sam explained, standing in the doorway of the bunker. Dean had disappeared hours ago. Sam tried to give him his space, he really did, but he couldn't take the risk that Dean would slip back into full demon. Sam was not going to let that happen.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, Sam. I'm about an hour away."

"Okay, thanks, Cas. I'm going to go out and look for him."

"Be careful."

"I will," Sam answered. He said goodbye and hung up.

He knew where Dean was, his exact location, actually. Dean had no clue that Sam had slipped a chip into his watch, one that he could track with his phone. It gave him Dean's coordinates, so he knew that Dean was close to the bunker. Still, he was worried, so he started through the woods, using his phone to pinpoint where his brother was.

He found him sitting on the ground next to a small, winding creek, hunched over, arms wrapped around his knees, his head resting on his arms. It took a second to register, the fluttering shapes rising from his brother's back, sweeping in a graceful arc, tips dragging in the dirt.

"Dean?" Sam couldn't bite back the gasp of surprise.

Dean startled, head flying up and twisting around, the wings spreading out in alarm. His eyes were wide, his skin pale enough that his freckles stood out in sharp relief, and when he stood, Sam could see the shakiness of his limbs.

"How did you find me?"

"Um, I have an app?" Sam didn't protest when Dean lunged forward, snatching his phone from his hand.

"You freaking lo jacked me?"

"Yeah, Dean, and I'd do it again. Can we talk about..." He gestured to the wings which were now flared out behind Dean.

"No, we can't. I'm going to my room." Dean shoved Sam's phone at him, pushing past and walking quickly swiftly away.

"Dean," Sam scrambled after him, catching up quickly, "you can't just ignore this."

"Yeah? Watch me."

Sam held back his retort. He knew Dean and when he got like this, there was no talking to him. He followed his brother back to their home, watching him until he disappeared into his room, slamming the door with a bang. Sighing deeply, Sam went over to the bookshelves. Maybe he could find something on demon wings, something to help. Talking to Dean wasn't going to work right now, but research? That he could do.

He was immersed in his reading when he felt a light touch on his shoulder and he jerked, reaching for the knife that was usually at his side before he realized he wasn't carrying it here. His shoulders slumped in relief when he saw it was Cas, and he offered him a weak smile.

"Dean?" Cas asked.

"His room," Sam answered. "Uh, Cas, he's different." 

"Oh?" Cas looked away from Sam, down the hallway. 

"Yeah. It's something you got to see to believe. I'm gonna go, get some food for us, maybe some pie. I hope you can help him. He's really struggling with all of this."

"I'll do what I can," Cas promised.

He watched Sam leave before walking down the hall to Dean's room. He knocked lightly on the door, his eyebrow rising when Dean yelled for Sam to 'go the fuck away'. Turning the knob, he realized the door was locked, but that wasn't truly a deterrent for him, and he opened the door easily, slipping inside.

What he saw caused him to freeze in shock. Dean was sitting on the bed, back to the door, shirtless. His skin was streaked with blood and filth, and from his back, long, elegant wings rose. The wings were jointed like a bat's with slender, delicate fingers and dark reddish brown, leathery skin stretched between, and they, too, were coated with blood and what looked like bits of skin and bone. Dean had one wrapped around his body, swiping at it with a cloth, visibly recoiling from the motion.

"God damn it, Sam, I said..." Dean's voice trailed off when he turned and saw the angel standing there, not his brother. He felt an instinctive need to curl up, to hide away from this being of pure light and fought it. It was just Cas, damn it. Unconsciously, his wings flared, sweeping over the bed and knocking his clock and pictures off the nightstand.

"Dean, when did this happen?" Cas's voice was silken steel.

Dean shivered. He couldn't name exactly what was pushing through him right now. He wanted to lunge at Cas, tackle him to the ground, claim his dominance, but he also wanted to hide from him, turning away from those oh, so blue eyes and kind expression. His skin felt like it was on fire, flaming to the touch, and there was a scent in the air, a subtle hint, that was intriguing. He stood, tilting his nose up, opening his mouth and breathing deeply, attempting to draw it in, to identify what he was scenting. He barely noticed his wings open at first, but they hurt when they did, a stinging ache and he groaned, closing his eyes and swaying slightly as he tried to fight the rush of pain.

"It hurts, Cas. I don't know what they're doing here." He opened his eyes and stepped closer, doing his best puppy dog look. "Can you give me a hand? I mean, you're kinda the only one with experience."

"You want me to help?"

"Yeah. They need to be cleaned; they got this gunk all over them. It burns when I try to wipe them down, and I can't reach everywhere, so yeah, I'd like your help to take care of them."

Dean shrugged, slightly put off by the flat tone of Cas's voice, by the incredulous expression on his face. He knew that as a demon, he was hideous to the angel now but he'd thought that his best friend would be able to look past that. He had with Meg, right?

"It hurts like hell, Cas, and I don't have a frigging clue what I'm doing."

"Dean..." Cas looked away, his cheeks stained a light pink. He paused, licking his lips.

Dean glanced at those lips, wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to touch them, to bite them. He stared, lost, before suddenly realizing that Cas was talking again and he'd missed some of it.

"...not something that's appropriate for me to do. I can tell Sam what he needs to know, and he can assist you."

"I don't want Sam, Cas. I want you." ' _Always, only you_.'

"Dean, I _can't_." Cas pleaded with his eyes, tilting his head, reaching out a hand to Dean, who slapped it away.

"Fine, you know what? Why don't you just go the fuck away, Cas. I guess I _don't_ need you."

"Dean..."

"What?" Dean crowded close to Cas, chest to chest, wings rising on either side of him. He glared at the man, hating how even now, when Cas was not there for him again, he still wanted to touch him, still wanted him.

Cas shook his head and stepped back, swallowing hard. He took a deep, steadying breath and attempted to reason with Dean.

"It's not appropriate," he began again, squinting in irritation at Dean when he interrupted,

"What the hell is inappropriate? I have wings, Cas, fucking wings! You have wings. I'm just asking for a bit of freaking help with them, because I don't know what the hell I'm doing and I don't know how to care for them and you can't even do that for me. I know you hate me, now that I'm this," Dean gestured to himself, "but I thought you still cared about me just a little. Guess I'm not on the list of demons you'll lower yourself to ' _assist_ '."

"Only lovers groom wings!" Cas shouted, grace glowing in his eyes for just a fraction of a second. He glared at Dean, who was staring, open mouthed at him, shocked into silence. "I am not your lover or your mate, so I cannot do this!"

"Sam's not my lover either!" Dean retorted, drawing back, lip curled in disgust. "And you could be, you know, if you'd stay around long enough." His eyes widened as he realized what he'd said, but he lifted his chin, meeting Cas's gaze head on, too stubborn to take it back. There had always been a push and pull with them, a dance of desire that he was tired of doing.

"You're the one who asked me to leave," Cas said, his voice low and quiet.

Dangerously quiet. Dean knew they were treading uneasy ground here, a morass of unresolved feelings, of pain and regret and want. This was emotional quicksand of the worst kind, but Dean's filter had fucked off to parts unknown, and he was completely done with wanting. He was all about the taking now.

"I screwed up, Cas, too many times. I know it. But I've wanted you for a long time and yes, I'd love for us to do all sorts of nasty things to each other."

He moved close again, reaching out, his hand hovering just in front of Cas's chest. He searched his face, looking for dismissal, for rejection, but Cas's expression was tight, pain evident in the thin lines of his face, in his drawn, pale skin. Sensing they were teetering on a precipice, he decided it was all or nothing, do or be damned.

' _And I'm already damned_ ,' he thought.

He placed his hand on Cas's chest, sliding it up to the angel's neck, higher up, cradling his jaw. Cas swallowed hard and swayed forward slightly, but didn't speak, not even to protest.

"Please, Cas," Dean begged, leaning in and placing soft, gentle kisses on Cas's jaw.

He dragged his mouth along the rasp of stubble, groaning slightly at the taste. Cas turned his head then, kissing Dean roughly on the mouth. When Dean pressed forward, wanting, needing more, Cas stopped him with a hand to his chest. Dean whined and dropped his head, resting his forehead on Cas's shoulder. Figures he'd take that leap, go this far, only to be shot down. He could feel tears sting his eyes and honestly did not care when they began to fall.

"I understand," Dean's voice was rough. "I'll figure this out on my own. I'm sorry, Cas, so sorry. Don't leave me again."

"I think we should get you cleaned up first," Cas said, gently pushing on Dean to move him back. He cupped Dean's jaw with his hand and brushed a light kiss on his lips. "Let's get in the showers. Trust me, being clean will make your wings feel better."

"You'll stay?" Dean blinked at Cas, reaching up to swipe the tears away. "Even though I'm this? I'm damned?"

"Haven't you learned yet, Dean?" Cas roughly jerked Dean to him, kissing him hard. He tilted his head back to stare into those beautiful eyes. "I will always choose you. Always."

"So, shower? 'Cause I am pretty disgusting right now."

"Go start the shower and wait for me."

"Bossy," Dean teased. He smirked at Cas. "I like it."

Cas just gave him a bland look and Dean laughed, swinging his hips as he walked from the room. The showers were communal, individual stalls with chest high divider walls. He quickly stripped his jeans and boxers off and kicked them to the side. He stepped into a stall, turning the water on and adjusting the temperature. While he waited for the water to warm up, he stood with his back to a mirror, looking over his shoulder and trying to get a good look at his wings.

"They're a decent size, comparable to mine," Cas commented.

Dean grinned at him and moved closer, flushing with pleasure when Cas looked him up and down, his pupils almost overtaking the blue in his eyes, and a blush creeping up his neck. Cas met his gaze, his mouth twitching; he was fighting a smile.

Cas began to undress, slowly but not teasing, just methodical and precise. Dean could feel the heat of anticipation rush through him as each bit of tanned skin was revealed. He wanted to touch, so he moved forward, looking up at Cas, silently asking for permission.

He ran his hand down Cas's chest, thumb brushing a nipple, fingertips lightly tracing the tattoo. His lips parted, he wanted to taste, so he bent his head, flicking his tongue against Cas's nipple, moaning against his skin when Cas tangled his hand in Dean's hair. He gripped Cas's (frankly ridiculous) hipbones, gasping in arousal as Cas jerked his head back sharply, exposing his neck, sending a jolt of heat and desire straight to his cock.

Cas kissed along Dean's jaw, nibbled at his earlobe and worked his way across his skin, stopping at the base of his neck to suck and bite a mark there.

"How'd you get so good at this," Dean gasped.

"I'm a quick study," Cas answered.

He smirked against Dean's skin and ran his hands along his stomach, reaching around and up, knowing what this would do to Dean. He teased at the joint of Dean's wing, where it rose out of his back, stroking it and at the same time, biting down on Dean's neck. Dean gave a choked cry, his hips snapping forward, his erection rubbing against Cas's thigh. Cas continued to play with the wings, Dean a twisting, panting, thrusting mess against him. When Dean's motions became a bit too frantic, he stepped way, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder as he swayed.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean glared at him, panting. "Why'd you stop?"

"We need to clean your wings off."

Cas urged Dean into the shower, pleased when he obeyed. Dean faced the shower head, hands braced against the wall. He dropped his head forward, letting the water beat down on his neck and upper back. Cas reached for the soap and began to wash his human, starting at his shoulders.

Dean slowly relaxed. He wasn't touched very often, not nearly as much as he craved, and rarely was he touched with such sweetness, gentle, tender strokes. Every brush of Cas's hands branded his skin. They swept down his back and, when they cupped his ass, Dean expected to feel fingers at his hole, pressing into him, but Cas didn't do that. He continued to wash Dean's skin, kneeling to run his hands down Dean's legs, curling his fingers around his ankles, lifting his feet to wash them. Dean tilted his head back, turning when Cas directed him to, tears running down his cheeks. He could feel the love, the reverence in every brush of Cas's fingers, every press of his palm.

Cas worked his way back up Dean's body keeping his touches light and non sexual. He put the tips of two fingers under Dean's chin, moving his head back. Dean kept it there when the fingers disappeared, groaning lightly when they worked against his scalp, massaging shampoo into his hair. Cas was careful to rinse all the shampoo out and when he was done, he kissed Dean lightly, brushing his fingers against his cheek. Dean opened his eyes, offering a weak smile. Cas smiled back and lifted one finger, making a turn around motion.

Dean did, and Cas slid his hands up Dean's back, then across the leading edge of both his wings. Dean moaned again, louder, at the incredible sensation of Cas stroking the thin membrane of his wings. His cock, which had softened somewhat, began to respond.

"Sensitive, aren't they?" Cas whispered against Dean's ear. "Touch yourself, Dean. I want to see you come undone. I wish to watch you lose yourself to the touch of my hands on your wings."

Dean nodded, panting and gasping. He slid his right hand down his stomach, raking his fingers through his hair. He curled his hand around his cock, rubbing his thumb over the slit. As he pumped his hand, twisting a bit at the top, he rolled his balls in his other hand, groaning from the sensation. Cas's hands danced on his wings in time to his thrusts and it just was too much. Dean could feel the coil of anticipation, the heat of arousal flash through him and he quickened the pace of his strokes. Tensing up, he cried out, arching his back, almost going on his tiptoes as he came, splashing come all over his hand and against the wall.

He slumped against the divider, hazy and relaxed from his release. Cas pressed kisses on his shoulder blades and wings, murmuring words of encouragement. Dean accepted the towel that Cas gave him, wrapping it around his waist, and he followed Cas back to his room.

Dean sat on the bed, suddenly chilled and unsure of himself, of what had just happened. Silently he watched Cas pull on a pair of his jeans and a t shirt, then leave the room without a word. Groaning, Dean slumped on the bed, turning on his side so his wings could hang over the edge of the bed. Why, why had he thought he would be allowed this? Good things did not happen to Dean Winchester. Such was the unwritten rule of the universe.

"I told Sam you were doing well, and to give us the night without interruption," Cas said, stepping into the room.

Dean sat up, startled. He flushed when Cas gave him a sad look.

"You thought I left," he said softly.

Dean shrugged. "I'm sorry."

Cas walked over to the bed and sat on it, pushing Dean gently down until they were lying face to face. He cupped Dean's jaw, brushing his thumb over Dean's cheekbone.

"So what's the plan?" Dean asked, turning his head and kissing Cas's palm.

"I thought we'd let you recover, then have astounding sex, then sleep."

"Sex, yeah, I could do that, but sleep? Dude, you snore," Dean teased. He laughed when Cas hit him with a pillow, but that laugh quickly turned into a grimace of pain when his wing clipped the nightstand.

"They'll be tender for a while, but it will pass," Cas promised. "We will need sleep, as we have a lot of work to do."

"Work?"

"Demons don't go around with their wings displayed, Dean. You must learn to hide them, as angels do. I can show you."

"Ummmm, hiding my wings, got it." Dean wiggled closer to Cas, pressing soft kisses on his jaw, nipping ever so slightly, loving the little gasp Cas made.

"And then," Cas said, his voice breathy, "you learn to fly."

Dean reared back, glaring at Cas. "Oh, hell no."

"Oh, hell yes," Cas corrected.

Dean felt a grin curve his lips as he was claimed yet again in a harsh, biting kiss by his angel. Cas may fall, but Dean would rise up to meet him, and somehow, they'd find their own path.

~~*~~

_**Bonus scene:** _

Dean was going to kill Cas. An angel blade would be all it would take, that shouldn't be too hard. Or, he could melt one down, make bullets. Then he could shoot the bastard.

"This generally works better if you let go," Cas said calmly.

"Uh uh. I am not dying this way," Dean said, eyes screwed tightly shut, his fingers twisted in Cas's shirt with an unholy death grip.

"You are still enough of a demon that you wouldn't die."

"I'm supposed to take your word for it?"

"You leave me no choice." Cas sounded put out.

"Choice about what?" Dean demanded, panicking.

And then the son of a bitch disappeared. Dean flailed in the air, the wind ripping past him, tearing his breath away. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as the ground was rushing up at him way too fucking fast. He panted and tried to open his wings, feeling them catch in the air, and screamed, because that fucking _hurt_. It worked, though, he was now gliding, badly, but gliding.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over. Cas was flying beside him, smiling at him before taking off, speeding across the sky. Groaning, Dean flapped after him. Cas was so going to pay for this tonight with a rousing pounding into the mattress.


End file.
